Page 3 of Samhain

-Hermia, Act I, Scene I

1

Carter

AGE SIXTEEN

I learned at a young age that getting people to like me usually afforded me whatever I wanted. It was something about my face, the innocence in my eyes perhaps, or the dimples in my cheeks. It softened people’s resolve, and once I had them laughing, most turned to putty in my hands. Growing up as the oldest of four children in a latchkey house with two working parents made this even more useful. Acted out in class and got detention? One grin and a flimsy excuse later, I was off.

Of the Scott kids, I was the one who had to keep my shit together. I was the one who had to make something of myself, the one setting the example for the rest.

“Did Charlotte do her homework tonight?” my mother asked, sorting through the mail and flexing her hosed feet on the yellow laminate kitchen floor. In the morning, she ran her own yoga studio, but after that, she worked the second shift at a call center to make ends meet.

“Yes,” I said, scribbling in my math notebook.

“And Sophia took a shower before bed?” Her blue eyes wandered over a bill, and she ran a hand through her sunshine-blond hair, brushing it back from her face before opening another envelope.

“Of course.” My reply came absently, my mind too focused on my homework. I wasn’t sure my calculations were right. I’d have to ask someone to compare notes in the morning. Math had never been my strong suit.

“Carter,” my mother snapped. “Are you listening?”

I cleared my throat and looked up at her. “Yes.”

“What about Lizzie?”

“Everyone is bathed and sound asleep,” I said. “Can I finish my homework now?”

Her features dropped, and she sank into the chair next to me. “I’m sorry. I know it’s difficult asking you to take care of your sisters.”

Especially when it should be her and our father.

“When’s he coming home?” I asked.

She’d confided in me a few weeks ago that they were considering divorce. He’d rented an apartment closer to his job with a flimsy excuse about a shorter commute, but none of us bought it. We all suspected what was really going on.

“I don’t know.” She reached across the table to grab my hand. I tugged it away from her.

“I have something to tell you.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and grabbed the acceptance letter from my book bag, sliding it across the table to her. “Some theater groups from around the world came to my school a few weeks ago. I auditioned and got an invitation from the Royal Theater Company to study with them for a year.”

Her mouth hung open, and her indigo eyes, replicas of my own, fell to the letter. The faint glow from the retro overhead light illuminated her confusion as she read through it. This would be an amazing opportunity for me, one that would help me get into Thomas Washington University. One that would help me after graduation. The connections I’d make there would network me into what I’d always wanted.

“A year?” She blew the word out like it had been squeezed from her chest.

“I know you need help with my sisters. But this is important to me.”

She covered her mouth and tears brimmed in the corners of her eyes. “Jesus, Carter.”

“If there’s any way we can make it work…I’ll do double shifts at the video store. I’ll eat Spam and macaroni for the next five years. I just—” I had to go. I needed to go. I wanted it with everything in my body, like something greater than myself was pulling me there.

“Of course, we’ll make it work,” she said. “This is—Wow.” She stood and walked over to me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders before pulling me into a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you. My baby boy.”

I snorted. “Not a baby anymore.”

“Oh, you’re my first.” She wiped at her cheeks. “You’ll always be my baby.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“You’ll have to tell your father.”

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